What Would Doctor Flenderson Do?
by outtabreath
Summary: Nyota's got her Vulcan, now she just needs to learn how to enjoy him. Sequel to How to Get the Vulcan You Want in Six Easy Steps.
1. 1645 Hours, Sunday

I was completely blown away by the response to _How to Get the Vulcan You Want…_I'd like to thank everyone who read, reviewed and favorited that story and my other two S/U fics (Discoveries and Appetite – tell your friends!).

This sequel is fluffy and nonsensical with lots of OOC moments (especially with Spock, who's a little, ahem, _passionate_ in this fic), but it's also funny. I hope.

Oh, and there's lots of smut, both yellow and red-level, and some Gaila because people seemed to want more of each. If you don't like the description of sexual relationships between consenting adults, please don't read this.

Paramount and Roddenberry (may he rest in peace) own all of this. I'm just borrowing Spock, Uhura and Gaila and giving them something to do while the next movie gets made.

Eternal thanks to miss steph for being my beta and friend; lady, you rock at both!

The Masai Mara is the Masai Mara National Reserve; it covers 1530 kilometers in south-western Kenya. As the Nyota in my mind is from Kenya, it made sense to have her there.

**~*~What Would Doctor Flenderson Do? by outtabreath~*~**

~**Part One of Six:** _1645 Hours, Sunday~_

_The green horse and I are cantering through the Masai Mara and it is warm and sultry, the way the best days of my childhood were. The birds are calling each other in the acacia tree and I can see zebra in the distance. I lean low over the horse's neck and rub my face in its mane. A shudder passes through the beast at the contact. I stroke its long, lean neck gently, calming it. The sound of the birds intensifies and I continue to croon to the horse. A sweet wind swirls around me and brushes the back of my neck with my name._

_Nyota._

_Nyota._

"Nyota."

The wind called me away from Africa, but I was still warm, the wind was still on my neck, and it was still calling my name.

"Nyota, it is 1615 hours. I must begin to prepare for our dinner."

_Spock._

"Dinner isn't until 1800 hours," I pointed out, trying to get my eyes to focus on the wall; it was hard as I was being distracted by the very warm, very firm body pressed very close to mine. "You're naturally gorgeous. How on Earth do you need almost two hours to get ready?"

"Cadet, the proper question is: What does said preparation entail?"

I craned my head back to look at him.

His eyes were doing that smoldering thing.

"Oh," I said, "_that _kind of preparation."

"Yes," he said, moving so I could slip under his hot, hard body.

"Did you sleep?" I asked him.

"I was not in need of rest," he replied, his eyes drifted to my lips.

"Did I snore or drool? Gaila says I do both but I think she's lying," I said, starting to worry about what I may have done for the last hour or so.

"Nyota, do you really wish to discuss this now?"

"I'd feel a lot more comfortable and relaxed if I knew that I didn't do anything humiliating while you were not-sleeping beside me."

"You pressed your body against mine…."

"Cuddled," I clarified.

"And you went to sleep," he continued. "You did not snore. You did not drool. You spoke in your sleep last night, but you did not do so this afternoon."

"I don't talk in my sleep," I said.

"You did while you were sleeping under the influence of alcohol."

"What'd I say?" I demanded, trying to remain calm. The thought of what my drunk, undefended subconscious might have cheerfully told him was even more horrifying than the thought of drooling and/or snoring around him – I had been prepared for those eventualities at least.

"It was most fascinating. You spoke a few words of Swahili and Vulcan. You recited the first ten Ferengi Rules of Acquisition and a word I did not recognize."

"What word?"

"Flenderson."

_Damn it!_

"Just a friend," I said quickly. "Was there anything else?"

"And you said my name."

I blinked dumbly at him. "I said your name?"

He nodded.

"And what did I say next? After I said your name, what did I say?"

He rolled aside – I instantly missed his body on mine – and propped himself up on his elbow and looked at me. "You did not say anything else; you smiled and turned over and your respiration and body movement became consistent with that of a Human entering stage two of non-rapid eye movement sleep. You remained in that state for seventy-five minutes before you began to move your legs slightly, indicating that you were entering stage three of non-rapid eye movement sleep. Do you wish for me to continue?"

"Not really, just tell me if I said anything else."

"You did not say anything else."

"Okay," I said, relief flooding me that I hadn't confessed all of my horrible secrets – starting and ending with Dr. Flenderson and the steps. And that summer when my sister and I….

He cocked his head, diverting me. "Are you satisfied now? May we proceed?"

"Oh we're proceeding," I said, pushing him onto his back so I could kiss my way down his neck and chest.

"Nyota?"

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," I whispered.

His hands reached for my shoulders, trying to pull me back up. I batted his hands away. "I want to do this."

"It is not necessary," he said.

I looked at down at him, he was ready, hard and heavy.

I looked back at him. "I want to get to know your body a little more. Will you let me do that, Commander? Will you?"

He dropped his head back in defeat. "If you must."

I chuckled. I've never had to talk a man into oral sex. Everything with Spock was different.

I continued to taste the skin of his torso, watching in amazement as his nipples stood under my fingertips, tracing the swirls of hair, following the lines of muscle down further.

I took my time investigating. The first two times we'd made love we'd both been too caught up in the conflagration triggered by finally being together, naked and touching, to spend much time tracing and learning.

I wanted to take the time now.

I wanted to see his penis up close and personal; I'd seen glimpses of it, of course, as it slid and thrust – but I wanted to touch it and taste it.

After I spent some time here.

His fingers twisted in the sheets as I continued my ministrations. I could hear his breathing speed up; his skin flushed a pale green. I smoothed the palms of my hands over the skin I'd just licked. I met his eyes; he was staring at me openly.

"Has anyone ever taken your penis in their mouth before, Commander?"

"Nyota, is this what Humans call 'talking dirty?'" he asked, his fingers tightening against the outside of his thighs; he seemed to have a hard time speaking.

I laughed. "That was a question, Spock – talking dirty is much, well, dirtier. For example, I could've asked, has anyone ever slipped your hard cock in their wet mouth before?"

I wasn't a big fan of dirty talk, but it was kind of fun to see Spock squirm.

His chest heaved up and down, his fingers flexed, his ears turned particularly green. "I perceive the difference."

"I'm happy," I said, sliding lower, and settling myself comfortably between his legs. "Now, can you please answer my question? Have you ever experienced this before?"

"No," he said, his voice low and quiet, almost shy.

I smiled widely; his eyebrow went up in response.

I focused on the matter at hand. It was large – I had known that from when it was inside me – and perfectly formed. And green.

I spared a moment of thanks to my sex-crazed roommate. I was happy I'd had time to wrap my mind around the concept before I was called upon to wrap my hand and mouth around the reality.

I stroked the head gently; Spock's hips thrust up in response.

"So that feels good," I said conversationally.

"I regret my loss of control, Nyota. Please forgive me."

I sighed and blew a warm puff of air over the rigid flesh. "I want you to lose control, Spock; in fact, I'm going to push you very hard and you're going to explode and I am going to enjoy it very much. And so are you." And, with that, I sucked his hard flesh deep into my mouth. He grunted and his legs shook around me.

He was holding back and I was_ not_ having that.

Dr. Flenderson would make her man crazy with desire.

And so would I.

I sucked and licked and touched every millimeter of him, making sure to pay attention to the movements that made him shake, made him breathe through his mouth, made him grow bigger, impossibly bigger and harder, in my mouth. I stroked the inside of his thighs, his balls, his perineum.

And then he broke, his hands left the bed and went to my hair, tightening in the strands, his breath came in short explosive gasps, he called my name, his hips pistoned off the bed and he came.

I moved with him as the climax continued to run its course through his body.

Triumphant, I stretched out beside him and ran my fingertips across his face. He pulled me closer, obviously planning on kissing me.

"Uh," I protested. "I'll go brush my teeth first."

He shook his head and pulled me to his mouth.

_Oooo, _kinky_ Vulcan._

After several breathless kisses, he released me. "Nyota, I have never…."

"Yes?" I prompted.

"I find that I possess no words to describe that experience or any of the experiences with you this afternoon."

"But they're _good_, right?"

"Good is a wholly inadequate term, but, as I cannot formulate a more appropriate response I will agree with your statement."

"Do they teach you that on Vulcan?" I asked, cuddling into his side. His fingers began to skim over my body, "How to make even bedroom talk sound like a doctoral-level thesis?"

"We do not discuss such matters on Vulcan," he said, his eyes following his fingers. "What I know of such things is derived from study and very minimal practical experience."

"And none of the practical experience included what I just did?"

"No, it did not."

"I'm good with that," I said, pride flooding through me. I liked being a first for him.

"Females enjoy similar attentions, I believe," he said quietly, like he was making a comment on my Romulan pronunciation.

"Yes, we most certainly do," I said quickly, "_I _enjoy such attentions."

His fingers slid lower. "You will guide me?"

"Happily," I said; my good luck would just not end – I had Spock and he was willing to learn how to do things the way I liked them, not the way he thought I should.

And to think, if I hadn't bought that book I'd probably be out touring Oxford with Boris, not here with Spock willing and able to take instruction.

_Thank you, fingers!_

He guided me onto my back and began to drop kisses along my breasts, gentle and perfect kisses. "Exactly," I hissed, then gasped as he experimentally took a nipple in his mouth and laved it. "Perfect." He replicated his motions on the breast's twin, then ran his fingers over my breast bone, following it down to my belly button and lower still, over my pubic mount and between my legs.

He looked up at me.

I took a deep breath; I figured I wouldn't be able to breathe much longer. "First, brush across the lips with your fingers."

He did as instructed, very lightly – like he was afraid to hurt me.

"Harder," I said, covering his hand with mine and showing him. "This," I said, guiding his fingers, "is the clitoris."

"I have read of this. It is very important in female sexual pleasure."

"Yes," I whimpered as his fingers caught the needy bit of flesh. "Always, always remember where it is. I like tight, hard circles."

He followed my directions exactly, the sensations were building too fast, too furious. I had to slow this down.

He had more learning ahead of him.

I grabbed his hand and stilled his movements.

"Was I not effective?"

"No, no, no," I said, "You were too effective. I need to show you something else."

"Proceed."

_Like you could stop me._

I guided his index finger – the same finger I'd watched with avidity for two years - between the petal-soft lips and into my body. I gasped at the sensation, at a favorite fantasy fulfilled.

"Add another finger," I said between gasps. Once he had followed direction I showed him how to slide in and out, how to use his thumb on my clitoris.

"Another finger, please," I said.

He complied and my fingers fell away from his hand and my hands flew over my head, seeking for the headboard, something, anything that I could grab and use to ground myself.

He moved in and out of my body, doing just as I had told him and the sensations built again. I was going to come and come hard.

"Keep doing exactly that," I panted, my eyes tightly closed as I let the waves of pleasure wash over me.

But he stopped. "I wish to taste you," he said, his voice raspy – close to his growl.

I whimpered with senseless need. "Spock."

He leaned forward and closed his mouth over the little nexus of nerves and his fingers kept moving and I forgot how to breathe, swallow, do anything but feel his mouth on me.

I was keening and convulsing within seconds.

His body covered mine and he was tipping my hips and entering me before I had fully recovered.

I was going to need to teach him about Human sexual responses and recovery time, but for now it was fine, it was good, it was too much but not too much. I grabbed his shoulders and threw my hips up at him as he pummeled into me. His eyes were wide and open and I searched for a sign of what he was feeling, then his eyelids slid closed and his thrusts became deeper, erratic. I pulled his mouth down to mine and slid my tongue between his teeth and he began to shudder and pulse; I let him carry me along to where I shuddered and pulsed, too.

His weight crushed down on me and I could feel him whispering into the skin of my neck.

"What'd you say?" I squeaked. My whole body was still coursing with what felt like electricity.

"Most remarkable," he said, rolling to the side and bearing me with him.

"You are the master of understatement."

"I do not mean to understate anything, Nyota. Words seem to be inadequate to describe what has transpired between us."

"I can't believe it. I was able to stymie the great Commander Spock."

"That is the case."

I giggled and kissed the column of his neck. He needed to shave.

_Damn it._

"Computer, time?"

"1708 hours," both the computer and Spock answered.

"That's creepy," I pointed out, wiggling out of his arms and out of bed. Sheer willpower forced my body to move.

"I have a very precise internal clock. It is not 'creepy,' it is useful," he said as he watched me run around the room. "What are you doing?"

"Getting dressed," I said as I pulled on my uniform and tried to tame my hair.

"Nyota…." He was arching an eyebrow.

"Put that eyebrow down," I ordered, "I don't think you fully comprehend the power it has over me."

"Please clarify, Cadet."

_I think he's flirting with me._

I stopped moving and put my hands on my hips, "You are really not helping right now."

"Perhaps if I knew what the goal of this activity is I would be able to render assistance."

_Or maybe not. How can men – even the astoundingly brilliant ones – be so clueless?_

"I need to be presentable so I can smuggle you out of here," I said, squelching the urge to roll my eyes.

"You do not need to 'smuggle' me out of your room."

"Oh yes I do. I don't really want to explain to the Idiot Squad why you're here."

He pushed himself up to a sitting position, which gave me a superb view of his magnificent body. "Nyota, no other students are staying on this floor."

"What?"

"You and I are the only representatives of Starfleet on this floor, the floor above and the floor below."

_Gaila!_

_God I love you, you beautiful, brilliant, green crazy woman._

"Even still, what if someone's wandering by?" I asked, glancing fixedly at his face and absolutely no lower as I tried to figure out where my hairbrush could be hiding. I remembered the last confirmed sighting had been in the bathroom.

I went to find it; when I returned he was up and dressing.

"I'm going to just check the hall first, okay? Please? Humor me."

"If you will find comfort in doing so I will not prevent it," he said.

I sighed and kissed him. His hands moved to my waist and I had to step away. "Look, I need to shower and do something with my hair and get dressed and if you start that again I'm going to be very, very late to dinner."

"Your hair is presentable in its current state."

"No, no, no," I said, pushing him towards the door. "I need some girl time."

A_nd I have to call Gaila before she sends out a search party – or adds_ The Green Penis Song_ to the Academy Chorale Ensemble's spring concert program._

I muscled past him and opened the door, stuck my head out and looked around.

The hall was empty and quiet.

"Okay, the coast is clear," I said, waving a hand at him.

"I did inform you this was an unnecessary exercise."

I glared at him as he moved past me. I watched his butt as he walked down the hall. I really did love watching the man move; he was grace and power coiled in a lithe and lean body.

"Go back into your room, Cadet," he said from his door.

"Aye, Sir," I grinned, saluting him.

His lips twitched and then his room swallowed him up.

I wandered back into my room and looked at the bed. He and I had been there – we had made love there.

_I wonder how much it would cost for me to buy that bed._

_And preserve it for all eternity._


	2. 1718 Hours, Sunday

Thanks for all of the reviews, folks! I do love seeing them waiting for me in my mailbox after a long day.

Just an FYI: Vulcans do grow body hair. I looked it up on Memory Alpha (a Star Trek Wiki that is amazing) AND did the tough work of watching TOS_: Patterns of Force_ (the only time Leonard Nimoy was filmed without a shirt as Spock) and looking at shirtless pictures of Zac Quinto for hours on end. I really do put myself through the wringer for my readers.

And thanks to Kristen Elizabeth to pointing out that the Ferengi were unknown to the Federation in the time of TOS. I am usually the Queen of Research (see above), but I chalk_ that_ error up to writing four stories in a relatively short period of time, the resultant severe sleep deprivation and the fact that I was _really_ looking into the whole Vulcan chest hair matter.

As the Ferengi stuff was featured in _How To…,_ I won't go back and change it now; so let's just say in this AU, where a character from another fandom has written self-help books that are still being sold in the 23rd Century, Gaila is a computer genius who enjoys writing dirty songs in her spare time, and Nyota and Spock are a couple, that the First Contact with the Ferengi occurred 150 years earlier than it did in Original Canon.

Whew. Now I can sleep. I HATE making mistakes like that!

**Disclaimers and Warnings in Part One.**

**~Part Two of Six: **_1718 Hours, Sunday_

I showered quickly, combed out my hair and put it into its normal ponytail. In the bedroom, I put on underwear and donned the fluffy bathrobe helpfully supplied by the hotel.

_Time to deal with Gaila. _

"Computer, messages."

"There are twenty-seven messages from Starfleet Academy: Gaila, Cadet."

_Persistent sex-fiend._

I waited. The computer appeared to be done reporting. Spock was right. No one else seemed to want to speak to me.

_God, he's smart._

_And gorgeous._

_And really talented._

_And…_focus, Nyota_._

"Erase messages and call Cadet Gaila, Starfleet Academy."

After thirty seconds of peace, the screen erupted into a very familiar face.

"_Finally_, Nyota Uhura. Where _have_ you been? I've be…" she stopped talking and pushed her face closer to the monitor in our room. Her eyes narrowed a moment, then opened wider than I'd ever seen them.

"Yes!" she shouted. "I've written a song for this occasion."

"No, Gaila," I said.

She ignored me and said, "_Spock's Green Penis_, by Gaila of Orion and Starfleet Academy." She started to sing,

_Oh say did you see  
__Spock's green penis my Ny?  
__Was it thick and was it long  
__Was it the most amazing schlong_?

"I'm turning you off right now if you don't stop," I ordered, biting my lip to keep from laughing.

She sighed. "You never appreciate my songs."

"I do appreciate your songs; I just don't need to hear them."

She settled on her bed. "I'm very happy that I got to at least sing the first verse; there are six others, by the way. I'm also very happy that I don't _have_ to sing the other song I wrote."

"I'm not asking…"

"_Vulcans Are Stupid and You Don't Need One_. I rhymed castration with masturbation. It may be the second best song I've ever written. The first, of course, is _Spock's Green Penis_, which you didn't let me finish singing for you despite the fact that you just saw Spock's green penis and could tell me if my description of it is accurate."

I sunk to the bed and let her continue to talk. She'd run out of breath eventually.

"Anyway, I'm happy that I don't need to sing _Vulcans Are Stupid and You Don't Need One_. So…," she clasped her hands around her knees. "How _was_ the dear Commander?"

I blinked. Sometimes her thought processes were as swift as Spock's; they were just much less logical and much more focused on sex. "We are not having this conversation," I said.

"Yes, we are. I didn't have sex with Mike because I was waiting for you to call me back…."

"Mike, Boris' friend? You met him three days ago; you haven't slept with him yet?"

"Silly Nyota, I didn't say _that_. Anyway, tell me all about Commander Spock. Was he good? How'd you handle the green penis thing? What does his body look like? Does his hair move?"

I took a deep breath, "Very, fine, amazing and yes. Now I've answered your questions. I need to get ready. We're meeting the rest of the Idiot Squad for dinner in," I craned my head to look at a clock, "thirty minutes."

She furrowed her brow, "This is all I get – four one word answers. No details? No minute-by-minute replays of the events of the last…how many hours was it?"

"Several," I said through clenched teeth.

She nodded appraisingly, "I'm very proud. Of both of you. I told you you were _both _completely horny."

"Gaila, we were not horny, we were…committed to exploration and discovery."

She snorted, "Is that what you kids are calling it these days?"

"I now have twenty-five minutes to get ready."

"So, talk to me while you do. What're you doing with your hair?"

"Uh," I stammered, motioning to my head.

She wrinkled her nose. "What are you _wearing_?"

I picked up my uniform and showed it to her.

"What's that?" she demanded.

"My uniform; you have one just like it."

"You can't wear that. Put on the other dress I packed for you."

"I think the uniform is more than fine," I said quickly.

"What did Dr. Flenderson say right in the foreword, Nyota?"

"I don't know, I didn't…."

"I'll tell you." She grabbed up her PADD and read, "'Remember that the steps build on each other. You can't abandon the lessons you've learned as you move along; carry them with you!'" She looked up at me.

"I can't believe you bought that book."

"Bought, pwah! I know my way around a computer, Nyota. I just copied it from your PADD."

"My encrypted PADD."

"Encrypted my green ass. Anyway, please focus. Dr. Flenderson tells you not to abandon the lessons. She also says," she tipped her head so she could continue to read from the PADD,. "'You find that man, make him yours and hang onto him with all your might!' You need to hang onto him, Nyota. You're wearing the other dress I packed for you."

"I don't need to dress like that anymore."

"Hmmm," she said speculatively. "What're your post-dinner plans?"

"What do you mean?" I demanded.

"You and the Commander. You guys are going to be playing hide the green salami more after dinner, right?"

"_Please_ don't call it that and we didn't exactly settle on a plan."

"Nyota! Have Dr. Flenderson and I taught you nothing? Getting him is only half the battle. You need to hang onto him because, for some reason, you want to do that. Personally, I'd just get my fill of him and move on – but you seem to want more."

"I do want more," I said weakly. Now I was worried.

_What if I had completely misinterpreted this morning, this afternoon – _everything_? Were Vulcans capable of saying whatever was needed to get women into bed? Were Vulcans capable of playing hide the green salami and then moving on to the next xenolinguistic prodigy they encountered?_ _Why am I calling it hide the green salami?_

"You are a woman of complexity and mystery!" Gaila said, snapping me out of what threatened to become a panic attack. "You've got to keep that Vulcan on his toes and out of his head with desire so you can keep him out of his pants indefinitely.

"You are going to put on the dress I packed and the cosmetics like I taught you to and remind him that you are a woman worth his time and effort."

_Spock's eyes, his hands over mine as he told me…._

"I don't need to remind him," I said, rallying a bit. "He told me he returned my affection."

"Great, congratulations – now let him know that you're happy that he returns your affection by being the sexiest woman he's ever laid eyes on."

"Gaila, you can twist anything around."

She smiled angelically, "It's an Orion gift. At least just _try_ the dress on."

I whimpered and pulled out the navy dress. It actually looked like a dress, not a miniscule piece of material. It had long sleeves, a high neck and a long skirt. "This is yours?"

She nodded vigorously, her red curls bouncing. I narrowed my eyes at her. She was up to something. "He really said it that way, 'I return your affection'?"

"Yes."

"_Vulcans_."

I slipped the dress over my head and spun to look in the mirror.

I knew it.

The dress was long-sleeved and high-necked and it almost reached my knees. It was also skin-tight and it had cut-outs – small holes at my left wrist, the inside of my left elbow, across my right clavicle, between my breasts and right above my belly button. I blinked dumbly at it. The dress was modest and provocative at the same time – it was perhaps the sexiest thing I'd ever worn.

"There's more in the back, too," Gaila cheerfully informed me, "at the base of your neck and the small of your back."

"Maybe it's not entirely fair that I unleash this dress on him in public," I said.

She laughed, "Yeah, the poor Commander is going to have a heart attack at dinner."

I spun around so I could see the back and thought about Gaila's comment.

_I'd kind of like to see him fight to maintain his composure._

"Shoes?"

"Yes! I'm happy you're finally seeing reason, Nyota."

I was seeing Spock with his chin on the floor and his eyes dark with passion.

"The blue ones with all the straps," Gaila directed, pointing in the direction of my suitcase.

I rooted through the contents until I found them. They were high with lots of straps. I looked at them dubiously.

"They're more comfortable than they look, Nyota, I promise. And they are the perfect pair of shoes for that dress. I searched for months for them."

I slid my feet into them and peered into the mirror.

She was right. The shoes were incredible.

"God, his head is going to explode," she said. "_Both_ of them."

"Poor Spock," I said, not meaning it at all. The dress and the shoes made me feel extremely vixenish.

Gaila clapped, "I'm just sorry that Dr. Flenderson is dead; this would make her _so_ happy. Now you go knock every piece of clothing off his body. Again. And _call me_!"

I nodded and turned to leave.

"And Nyota?"

I turned back towards her.

"You do know you're going to tell me everything when you get back here."

"I know Gaila." She was amazingly persistent and persuasive. I'd end up telling her every little detail before she was done with me.

She smiled widely, "Good. So please remember _everything_ – I'm going to want _excruciating_ detail."


	3. 1810 Hours, Sunday

**Disclaimers and Warnings in Part One.**

~**Part Three of Six:** _1810 Hours, Sunday_~

The Italian restaurant Spock had chosen was a block away from the hotel. Even though it was fairly busy, the instant I walked into the restaurant, I heard Boris' voice rising above all of the other conversations. Following it, I found the table occupied by my teammates and my…..

_Commander. Tutor. Friend. Lover._

_All of the above._

_I hope._

It was a long rectangular table with Tomas, Niobe's MIT dance partner, Niobe, Boris and Spock on one side and Jenka and Et'Bet and two empty chairs on the other. Et'Bet was whispering in Jenka's ear and they were practically sitting in one another's lap. Niobe and her friend were debating with Boris. Spock was staring at the menu like he was trying to memorize it, even though he probably already had.

He was the only one in uniform and the black material clung to the muscles in his shoulders and chest. The low lighting of the restaurant picked up gleaming highlights in his hair, and laid shadows across his face that threw his extraordinary bone structure into high relief. I looked down to where his hands were clutched around the energized paper.

I was suddenly flooded with memories the afternoon, of touching and tasting, of limbs intertwined as we enjoyed each other.

My knees went a little weak and I whimpered faintly; he heard and his head came up and his eyes coursed across my body.

His nostrils flared and his fingers tightened on the menu. I raised my eyebrows at him. His eyes raked my body again, then he met my eyes and very slowly, very deliberately he raised one perfect, glossy eyebrow.

It was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen him do.

Clothed.

_If I pass out right now, would he give me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?_

"Nyota!" Jenka said, finally noticing me, too, "We didn't order yet – we were waiting for you."

I tore my eyes away from Spock and looked at my teammate. "Sorry I'm late and thanks and good evening, everybody," I said, finding the strength in my watery legs to walk to the table and sit in the empty chair opposite Spock, his eyes were already back to the menu. I took a deep drink from a glass of water waiting for me.

Et'Bet smiled. "Are you feeling better? Commander Spock was telling us you had a rough day."

I choked; Spock's head came up. "Those were not my exact words, Cadet."

"But it does express what you meant, Sir," Jenka said, instantly defending his girlfriend.

"Perhaps." Spock met my eyes, then dropped his gaze to the menu again.

The waiter arrived and took orders. I made very sure to order something without garlic or onions. I didn't want to have bad breath for Spock.

If he decided to come back to my room after dinner.

_Which I really, really want him to do._

Niobe introduced me to her friend and he shook my hand politely, congratulating me on my gold rating and my team's victory.

"Of course Nyota did well," Et'Bet said around a mouthful of bread. "The Commander tutored her personally. Pair that with her own exceptional talents and she had to do well."

"Cadet Uhura's own skills were much more instrumental in her performance at the Invitational than my work with her," Spock said quietly.

"Still," Tomas, said, "It would've been great to have one-on-one preparation. MIT doesn't put as much emphasis on the language side of communications as it does on the hardware side."

"MIT sucks," Boris said, not quite _sotto voce_.

Niobe punched his arm lightly. "Briggs I _warned_ you. Behave or I'm going to do everything within my power to assign you to Professor Heprin as his TA for Advanced Andorian next term; he _sprays_ when he speaks Andorian."

Boris curled his lip. "I'll be good Nio, I promise."

"Professor Heprin is a competent instructor," Spock said.

"Yes, Sir, I didn't mean any offense," Niobe stammered.

I dropped my head and looked at him. He was staring at Niobe and Boris implacably, but I could see the slight tenseness around his eyes. He was acting like the professor and professional he was.

It was extremely appealing.

_Why did he say we'd meet them for dinner? Why aren't we in my room feasting on each other, instead?_

"Nyota, are you okay?" Et'Bet asked.

I pulled out of a fevered vision and met her eyes. "What?"

"You're sweating and your hand is shaking," she said. "Have you recovered from your bender?"

_From the alcohol bender, yes; from the Spock bender, never._

"I'm fine," I said, reaching forward and grabbing a piece of bread.

"So what'd you do today?" Boris asked, looking between Spock and me.

_Had sweaty, steamy, endless sex with the man sitting beside you._

"Slept," I replied just as Spock said, "Rested."

_Oh no, _that's_ not at all suspicious._

But it didn't seem that anyone else thought so. Boris immediately proceeded to tell us about the day he'd spent touring the University and meeting various women, all of whom seemed to find him inordinately adorable.

I'd heard variations of the same story for almost two years. I tuned him out and slid my foot out and up the leg opposite mine. I looked at Spock under lowered lashes. He was good - really, really good. He was listening to Boris without blinking an eyelash. I began to make small, tight circles on his leg.

_Nothing._

Boris' voice cut off and I glanced at him. His face was bright red.

_Damn it!_

I dropped my foot, "Sorry, Boris. I was just stretching."

Spock met my eyes; his lips thinned. I looked at the tablecloth and started to try to count the threads.

Niobe and her date engaged Boris in a conversation about one of the Invitational tasks. Spock began staring at a spot on the wall somewhere over my head. Et'Bet leaned over to me.

"Jenka and I are going to see the street performers after dinner. Do you want to come with us?"

"Uh," I said, trying not to glance at Spock. "I'm not sure what I'm doing yet."

"As I left the hotel this evening, the concierge recommended viewing the performances," Spock said. When I slid my eyes to him he was looking at Jenka and Et'Bet. "He stated that the fire masters were particularly skilled. I had planned on going after dinner."

_He'd made _plans_?_

_Plans that did not include eating as quickly as possible and getting back to my hotel room?_

"That's three, Nyota, you're coming, right?"

"Sure," I said, looking at Spock. His expression was flat; his gaze directed at the area above Et'Bet's head.

I bit back a sigh and focused on the other members of our group. "What about you guys?" I leaned across the table and tapped the back of Boris' hand with my fork.

As I sat back down I noticed that Spock's eyes were on the cut-out between my breasts.

My outlook brightened considerably.

Boris broke off his conversation and mumbled something that sounded amazingly like "I have a date."

"I'm sorry," I said, "But my exceptional aural sensitivity seems to have failed me. I thought you said you have a date."

"I do," he mumbled into his glass.

Everyone except Spock stared at him in open astonishment.

It wasn't that he was unattractive; just that he was completely exhausting to be around for more than ten minutes at a time.

"With who?" Niobe demanded.

"Someone I met today while the rest of you were cocooning," he said a little defiantly.

_How had he found out? How could be telling everyone at the table? Oh God, we're going to have to live on Vulcan doing translations for five credits a page._

_We're never getting assigned to _The Enterprise_._

Spock was completely unfazed; I continued with my panic attack. Niobe must've kicked Boris under the table, because he jumped, his mouth fell open and his pale skin flushed scarlet. "Oh Sir, I didn't mean you, of course. Or Nyota. I meant them." He gestured to the rest of the table.

Spock ignored the apology, just as he had the earlier comment; I attempted to perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation on myself without anyone noticing.

Boris, his foot now removed from his mouth, returned to the subject of his date. "Anyway, she's very nice and we're going to meet after dinner." He took a sip of water and began to crane his head. "And where is our dinner? It's taking a long time. Nyota, don't you think its taking a long time?"

I opened my mouth, not sure if my heart was properly working yet.

Boris, as was his wont, responded to his own question. "You know, I'm going to find out what's going on. I'll be right back." He fumbled to his feet and headed towards what I assumed was the kitchen.

I finished my glass of water and prayed for dinner to be over.


	4. 1950 Hours, Sunday

Just one more part of UST to go. I'm very, very sorry Dr. Spleenmeister.

**Disclaimers and Warnings in Part One.**

~**Part Four of Six:** _1950 Hours, Sunday_~

"Tomas and I are going back to the hotel," Niobe said, freshening her lipstick.

"But the street performances are supposed to be really good," Et'Bet protested.

"You're going home with your man," she replied, fluffing her blonde hair, "I'm not. I'm going to enjoy a private performance."

Et'Bet giggled.

"What about you Nyota?" Niobe prompted.

"What about me what?" I asked; I was leaning against the wall refusing to take part in the fluffing and freshening.

"Maybe you should lose the couple and the Commander and find yourself some fun while you're here. Might help relax you more than getting stumbling drunk and having to be escorted home by Spock."

"I'm not really a fan of one-night stands."

_Or one-afternoon stands for that matter._

"It'd be good for you," she said, leaning against the mirror and staring at me. "You've been spending way too much time locked up in offices studying – you need to let loose."

"I let loose plenty."

She sighed dramatically. "You need to have sex, Nyota Uhura. You need it more than anyone I've ever met." She blotted her lips, "With the exception of the Commander, of course."

I wanted so badly to tell her that the Commander and I were not in need of sex.

Of course I couldn't, for two reasons: First, I actually did _need _to have sex with him - lots and lots more sex - and second, there was the whole possible end of both our careers thing.

"Sometimes you sound just like Gaila," I said instead.

She smiled brightly and headed towards the door, "_Think_ about it. I'll see you guys tomorrow - unless I decide to run off to the East coast for a while."

"Do you think she'll do it?" Et'Bet asked.

"Hardly," I snorted, trying not to think about Spock and me naked and intertwined and thrusting and…. _Breathing now_. "She's got more ambition in her left ear than most people do in their whole bodies. She wants to be a Starship Captain and no fling is going to get in her way."

Jenka and Spock were waiting for us outside the bathroom. Spock was patient, Jenka was not. He lit up when he saw his girlfriend and greeted her as if she'd been gone on a five-year mission not a five-minute visit to the bathroom.

Spock didn't look at me.

_I'm sure he missed me, too._

We left the restaurant and found the rest of our group standing outside the door. The looks they gave Spock made it clear that he had told them to wait.

"The shuttle to San Francisco leaves at 1100 hours; I expect to see all of you," he said, looking at us all in turn – even me – "at the station at 1030 hours."

"Yes, Sir," we mumbled.

I started picturing him in all of the positions I hoped to be seeing him in before 1030 hours.

"C'mon, Nyota!"

I looked up. I was standing outside the restaurant very much alone. Niobe, Tomas and Boris were gone; Et'Bet, Jenka and Spock were standing at least four meters from me. Two of them were looking at me as if I'd lost my mind; the third was merely thinking it.

_It's his fault._

I was just fine before I met him and became a Vulcan-obsessed- Dr. Flenderson acolyte.

I ended up to the left of Jenka and Et'Bet, Spock to the right. His hands were firmly behind his back, his walk even and steady.

I kept stumbling because I was too busy watching him out of the corner of my eye to watch where I was going.

"Are you really okay?" Et'Bet asked me. "We can walk you back to the hotel."

"I'm fine," I said, envying Spock's utter and complete calm.

"So, Jenka and I went out for a walk this afternoon and found this really cute café. I say we go there later and have some dessert."

_I do plan on having dessert…in my hotel room._

I stumbled again.

"Or maybe we could just have an early night," Jenka prompted.

"An early night may be good," I said, trying very hard not to sound too eager.

"Does the café serve tapioca pudding?" Spock asked.

"I think so," Jenka said. "Do you like tapioca?"

"It was my mother's favorite and she served it quite often when I was a child. I would be interested in sampling this café's version. I am trying to find the preparation that most closely approximates hers."

I almost fell over again – this time from shock; he had shared personal information with students that were not _me_, he had almost said he _liked _something.

He had just delayed our possible return to my hotel room and our sweaty, sexy pursuits by at least thirty minutes.

I concentrated on my feet.

Would Dr. Flenderson be upset right now? No, she'd use this time to weave a web of seduction around the hapless Vulcan – using tapioca to draw him ever closer to her, to make sure he was as intrigued and off-balance as he'd been when she was getting him in the first place.

_How exactly does one make tapioca sexy?_

"Oh, Nyota! Look at that!"

Et'Bet's voice intruded on a vivid picture of me slathering myself in pudding and Spock licking it off.

It didn't look very comfortable and even Fantasy Spock didn't look like he was enjoying himself very much.

Perhaps tapioca _can't _be made sexy.

I attended to her and saw what had made her so excited.

Several jugglers were performing in front of a small crowd; but, instead of juggling balls or pins of knives, they were juggling spheres of light.

"That's amazing," I said, watching as they threw the spheres high in the air and caught them again. The bright incandescence left smudges of color in my vision.

I watched in rapt silence for several minutes before the desire to see Spock's reaction made me lean around our companions. He was standing quite still, only his eyes moving as they followed the jugglers' movements.

"You're trying to figure out how they do it, aren't you, Commander?" I asked.

He blinked and looked at me, his eyes their customary blank brown; his response, however, hinted at something the exact opposite of blankness. "On the contrary, Cadet, I am merely allowing myself to take pleasure in the experience; I find the colors visually pleasing, the deep brown in particular."

_He wants me._

_I want him._

_I could just jump him right here, right now._

"I want to see the fire performers," Jenka said, diverting me from undertaking a disastrous plan of Spock Attack; he and Et'Bet started walking, Spock and I followed. I kept darting glances at him; he was facing straight ahead, navigating the crowded streets with ease.

I kept bumping into people.

After five minutes of being jostled along we found the fire masters; they were obviously very popular. They were on a small stage and the crowd was immense. The four of us stopped at the edge of the people; within seconds, we were being shoved and pushed by new arrivals.

The show really was spectacular. The fire masters had indeed learned how to command fire: they manipulated it, controlled it, bent it to their power. It danced around them in ribbons and orbs, flaring and ebbing with a flick of fingers, the turn of a wrist. I could feel the heat even though we were a good distance from the stage.

One of the performers jumped, a lick of flame dancing under her feet as she completed a somersault in the air. Another twisted within a spiral of flame around his body. A pair of the masters threw fire balls back and forth at each other, catching and juggling them with ease.

"Wow," I said.

"It is quite extraordinary," Spock said from very close to my ear.

I jumped. The last time I'd see him there were two people between us; now they were in front of us and Spock was on my left. I wasn't quite sure how it had happened.

Jenka peered over his shoulder, "Aren't you happy you came with us?"

"Yes," I said, grudgingly.

I looked at Spock out of the corner of my eyes; he was staring right back at me.

I opened my mouth to speak to him; he gave a curt shake of the head, his eyes trailing to Et'Bet and Jenka. They were close to us, anything we said, they'd hear.

His eyes stayed staring forward.

I had no interest in the stage anymore; no matter how incredible what was going on up there was it couldn't begin to compare to the thoughts of a naked, aroused Spock.

Perhaps with tapioca nearby.

The performance ended to raucous applause and my teammates led us toward the café.

It was a cute establishment, with tables outside and inside and a fair amount of customers. Jenka and Et'Bet volunteered to wait in line and took our orders – chocolate cheesecake for me, tapioca pudding for Spock – and headed inside; Spock and I found an outside table.

I sat down first; Spock settled in the chair beside mine and put his hands in his lap.

My fingers twitched on the table. I wanted to touch him badly.

"Please put your hands in your lap, Nyota," he prompted.

"What?" I met his eyes.

"Please," he said, his voice pitched lower, a bit of banked fire in his eyes.

I did as he asked and was rewarded by his hot hand seeking out the cut-out at my wrist. He began to trace designs on the small bit of skin.

The heat from the flames from the fire masters were nothing compared to what his light touch was creating in my body.

"Nyota," he said softly. "I wish to come to your room tonight."

"Of course," I whispered.

The fire flared in his eyes momentarily, then his fingers stopped their seductive movements and his hands were on the tabletop more quickly than I could track.

Et'Bet and Jenka were weaving their way towards us with desserts, two small carafes and four cups.

"Coffee and tea – both completely decaffeinated," Jenka pointed out, "I know we all need our sleep tonight."

_Not me. I don't need sleep._

I ran my fingers over the area he'd just touched – I could feel the residual heat from his skin.

_I just need Spock._


	5. 2140 Hours, Sunday

I know that Spock is pretty OOC in this chapter, but I hope that you enjoy it anyway.

And don't read this at work. Seriously. I cannot be held responsible for anyone getting fired.

I'd like to thank RachelKarenGeller for her request that I include Vulcan words in this story; I think the inclusion has made the chapter much richer.

The Vulcan is cobbled together from words found at the amazing Vulcan Online Dictionary and the language lessons at the Vulcan Language Institute at the Star Trek Online Geekipedia. Despite my spending way too much time at the VLI, I know very little about Vulcan language rules and syntax. The Vulcan is as close to accurate as I could get, so please ignore the mistakes in grammar and usage and focus on the smut.

If you want a list of the meanings of every one of the Vulcan phrases, please PM me. I have tried to make the meanings clear, but may not have fully succeeded.

Finally, the quote in which Spock explains why he uses the word "fascinating" so much is from the _Star Trek_ episode _The Immunity Syndrome_ written by Robert Sabaroff; the Vulcan translation is from the VLI.

**Disclaimers and Warnings in Part One.**

~**Part Five of Six**: _2140 Hours_, _Sunday~_

"Computer, lights at one-quarter."

"Message from Starfleet…."

"Erase message and just call her," I said, as I rushed about trying to make sure me and the room were ready for a visit.

"Request not understood. Please restate."

_Computers._

"Please call Starfleet Academy: Gaila, Cadet." I started stuffing clothes and toiletries into my suitcase. There was no way I was going to have time to pack in the morning.

_For which I am very, very thankful._

"Nyota?"

"Hey Gaila," I said, my back to the screen as I continued packing and cleaning, "I have two minutes and I told you I'd call you so I'm calling you so you don't need to keep calling _me_ all night again."

"Ooo, are you going to have a guest tonight?" she asked. "I _told _you that dress would work."

"Once again and, as always, you were right, Gaila," I said, crawling around on the floor making sure I hadn't kicked anything under the bed.

"Gaila, I thought you said we would not be disturbed."

I popped my head up over the edge of the bed and peered at the screen.

Gaila was not alone; she was also not completely dressed.

"It's the middle of the day! You're supposed to be in class," I said.

"Hmph. You're one to talk," she said, glaring at me. "Besides, I'm only missing Diplomatic Relations." Her partner - who was most decidedly_ not_ Mike - laughed.

She ran her fingernails along his jaw. "We're doing independent study; Orion and Napean relations have never been better." She smiled at him, "Nyota won't take long, handsome. She's got her own diplomatic relations to attend to."

I rolled my eyes, "You never stop working for the good of the galaxy, do you?"

"Nope," she said, moaning a little as her Napean friend started playing with her ears. "My one aim and endeavor in this life is to bring peace to the galaxy; it is the only thing that fills me with accomplishment and pride." His head dipped down out of the screen; Gaila whimpered.

"Stop stealing my lines," I said. "I'm ending this call right now before I never want to have sex again."

"We can't have that," she said, then squealed a bit. "I'll see you and your...friend tomorrow." She began giggling and turned off the screen in a hurry.

_Do I have time for a shower and brain-wipe?_

The door chimed.

_Nope._

I pushed the rest of the stuff in the case, took a deep breath and said, "Come in."

The door opened and there he was - his presence as much of a miracle as it had been this morning.

I smiled blazingly at him; his eyes traveled over my body appraisingly.

"That is a most interesting choice of attire, Cadet."

"Do you approve, Commander?" I asked, clasping my hands behind my back and thrusting my chest out; I swung forward onto my toes for good measure. If I was going to be coquettish, I was going to be the most coquettish coquette there ever was.

"I took time to prepare for our dinner. However, I did not take into consideration what you would choose to wear; it has provided me the opportunity to utilize skills and strategies that I have not had to employ for several years so that I might maintain my control and composure."

Translated, that meant he'd meditated before dinner, but my complex, sensual, multi-faceted femininity - and Gaila's dress - had been knocking his socks off over the last three plus hours anyway.

"So that's why you decided to go see the street performers and confab over coffee and tapioca - so you could continue with your practice of self-discipline," I said, smirking a little and blatantly ogling him.

"I believed that maintaining normal social activities was imperative to divert any question of impropriety."

Translated, that meant that he was thinking with his brain, not his penis.

At least one of us was able to keep it in our pants long enough to keep the Idiot Squad off the scent.

"That was very logical," I said.

"Indeed; however, now that that obligation is fulfilled, it is no longer necessary that I exert the same level of control."

Translated, that meant he was ready, as Gaila would say, to let the games begin.

_The fun, sexy games._

I smiled warmly, "No, you sure don't." I ambled towards him, swinging my hips and putting a bounce in my step. I stopped when I was standing toe-to-toe with him.

He took a deep breath.

"Hello, Spock." I put my hands on his face.

He shuddered and his eyes slipped closed. "Nyota, I must ask that you not touch me at this moment."

"What's wrong?"

"It would appear that I overestimated the efficacy of the strategies I had previously implemented and, now that we are alone, I find that my control has been compromised by thirty point seven percent."

Translated, that meant I had a very aroused, partially out of control, Vulcan Commander on my hands.

"Oh," I breathed, my stomach coiling into a tight ball of anticipation. I dropped my hands and looked at him.

He was flushed and his breathing was shallow. "Please step back."

I did so. His eyes snapped open; they were hard and glittering - more unguarded than I had ever seen them. "Most extraordinary," he said, starting to undo his uniform.

"What is?" I asked breathlessly.

"My reaction to you; I have never experienced anything like it."

_And neither have I._

I stood very still and watched him disrobe; his eyes never strayed from me - they roamed all over my body, very seldom actually making it to my face.

The room swam a little and I was afraid I was going to pass out and it was going to be embarrassing and I wouldn't get to do what we were going to do.

Would Dr. Flenderson pass out? Would Gaila?

I saw the predatory gleam in Spock's eyes.

_Oh yes; they'd be goners, too._

I kept sucking in huge amounts of air, hoping that would help. It didn't.

It took him forever to get undressed. I think he was doing it on purpose.

By the time he was naked, I was a swollen mess and he was turgid. He prowled towards me.

He stood in front of me and my eyes slipped close in anticipation of the kiss that never came. Instead of the touch of his lips to mine I felt his mouth close over the hollow of my throat. My eyes flew open; his dark head was bent low - I could feel his tongue and teeth working at the skin. My hands headed to his face; instead he caught my wrists and pushed them down.

"Nyota, my restraint has been weakened. Please leave your hands at your sides."

I shuddered, and whispered my assent to his appeal - even though I knew it was much more of a command than a request.

He continued to worry at the skin, sucking and nipping at it until I was keening, my hands bound tight in the fabric of the dress to keep me from reaching for him. He laved the entire area with the flat of his tongue, then lowered his head even more.

He began to lick the area between my breasts - his breath scorching on my skin. I held my breath and closed my eyes, trying desperately to stay upright. I could feel my nipples, hard and needy, pressing against the fabric of the dress; I hoped he would notice them and touch them, too.

He did not.

"Open your eyes, Nyota."

I did as he had asked - _commanded_ - to find him standing and staring at me. Very deliberately, he ran his fingers over my clavicle, then lifted my arm so he could kiss the inside of my wrist, my elbow. He watched my reactions closely. I sighed and opened my mouth to speak.

He placed a finger against my lips, then knelt before me, his mouth moving unerringly to the skin above my belly button, his fingertips to the skin at the base of my spine. I forgot my orders and my hands went to his shoulders. He allowed it and continued suckling my skin, and tracing shapes into my back. His tongue slipped below the material and skimmed into my belly button.

My knees gave out and I was sure I was going to crumple down on top of him, but he was standing and holding me up, kissing me. My hands tightened on his shoulders; his hands were tight around my waist. His mouth slanted over mine, he bowed my body back - his hands pressing firmly into the skin of my back. I returned the kiss with equal ardor.

_More, more, more._

He picked me up and, somehow, got us into the chair; the chair where he had watched me sleep. He arranged me on his lap so I was facing the bed; the bed where we'd made love all afternoon.

"Nyota, look at the bed and know that when you called my name last night I wished to join you there," he said, his breath blazing on my ear, his fingers holding my hips with bruising strength.

"You could've," I whispered. "I wanted you so badly." I could feel him, hard and perfect, pressing against the inside of my thigh. I tried to touch him; he grabbed my wrists in one hand.

"Such a choice would have been unacceptable. I could not take advantage of you then," he whispered, his lips finding the nape of my neck, his hand tightening around my wrists.

"But now…."

_Now, now, now, now._

His fingers slid into the cut-out between my breasts and eagerly sought out the flesh there. "Now I have no such compunction. I will take you soon.""

I could feel the column of flesh I needed, wanted, _craved_, twitch at his words. I tried to free my hands, crazed with the need to touch him.

He bit the back of my neck gently and whispered, _"Rai_. _Dungau-smo'ni._"

_I must wait._

He'd slipped into Vulcan; I wondered if he'd even realized it. I was witnessing the last of his guards come down. I started to shake.

His mouth was very busy at the little bit of exposed skin on the back of my neck, then his voice rasped out a demand, _"Dungau-estuhl rai."_

_Oh God!_

"I won't touch you," I promised.

One set of fingers was still very busy against my breasts; he relaxed the other set, releasing my hands, and slid them under the dress and I felt and heard them shred the panties to strips of silky fabric.

I dug my nails into the arms of the chair, desperate to keep my promise to him.

"_Vesh'svi' au kro'el_," he said, coolly, calmly before his mouth returned to the patch of skin he could not seem to get enough of.

_They were in the way._

I whimpered, my fingers tightening on the slippery material covering the chair. One set of his fingers was stroking my nipples; the other was between my legs, gently caressing the inside of my thighs. I tried to ease the deprived area between my legs towards his fingers without him noticing.

"_Dvun-tor fam_," he said; he'd noticed.

"Please Spock, I need to move. I need your fingers to touch me."

"_Estuhl ozh_."

"Not there," I ground out, "Where I showed you this afternoon."

"_Ak_."

"_Fam ak_, _i'_, Spock." I was slipping into Vulcan too, anything to convince him to allow me release.

_Not soon, _now_. _

_Please._

His mouth was too busy to provide an answer to my plea; he allowed his fingers to respond as the digits, hot and burning, found my flesh and began stroking and rubbing; he remembered _everything_ I'd taught him earlier.

"_Th'i-oxalra_," I whimpered. _Thank you, thank you_.

I was inflamed, fevered, pitching myself towards his fingers, away from the teeth that were biting and marking my skin. I could feel the rush of the orgasm and joyfully began to ride the crest.

His fingers, his mouth, stopped moving and left my skin.

"_Bek-tor_, Nyota. _Kau-terasayek istau._"

_Wait. I wish to couple with you. _

I almost screamed with frustration - but I knew that wouldn't help. He wanted my acquiescence and I had to have him. I nodded. With my assent his hands were on my hips and he deftly moved me onto him, impaling my body on his length and width.

He held me still, filled utterly with him. "_Aitlu nash-veh tor_?" he asked, nipping my ear as he did.

"_Ha_!" I whimpered.

_Yes, yes, yes. Yes, I desire you._

"_Goh du, _Spock. _Kwon-sum__ eh goh."_

_Only you. Always and only you._

"_Rom_," he growled.

_Good._

And oh God, it was _all_ good.

His teeth returned to the back of my neck and his hands to my hips and he began to thrust up while pulling me down. "_I'dvun-tor_."

As requested, I began to move, trying to match the rhythm and power of his movements.

His hands were moving quickly and I vaguely heard the sound of ripping cloth and felt the cool rush of air on my sensitized skin.

"_Weht,_ Nyota, _weht_. _Bolau weht."_

_More. He needed more._

"_Nem-tor ra bolaya_," I said, inviting him to take everything he needed.

His hands and teeth tightened on my skin and I began to keen, my last conscious thought was that I was going to have to buy Gaila a new dress - and then I was hurtled into the first orgasm.

His movements intensified and, without warning, the second explosion hit, then the third and there were waves and spirals of light and heat and sensation. And he was still moving, still driving me, still biting my neck.

I screamed his name; he growled mine and pulled me down against him - tight and full.

I could feel the pulsing wetness and his ragged breathing; his heart was fluttering wildly against my hip.

As the shaking subsided, I eased myself off of him and turned so my side was pressed to his still heaving chest; my face was pressed against his flushed neck and my legs curled on top of his. His arms tightened possessively around me as I nuzzled the skin of his shoulder.

"_Vesh'taurauk_," I said, even though amazing was an understatement; I didn't think there were words - in Vulcan, Standard or any other language - that could adequately capture what had just happened.

"_Sem-rik_," he murmured.

"_Sem-rik_?" I prompted, my voice rising on the end of the word. I wondered what it was that he had found so fascinating.

"_Sem-rik - zhit is-tor nash-veh na'ri-gishu_," he explained, his fingers releasing my hair from the ponytail.

_Fascinating is a word I use for the unexpected._

"_Na'ri-gishu nash-veh?"_

"_Maut_," he said, his fingers combing through the strands; I leaned into his fingers.

_I was very unexpected._

I could live with that.

He carefully pulled my hair forward so that it fell around my face and down over my shoulders. I watched him in fascination as his eyes followed the strands as they fell across my throat and breasts.

His mouth opened slightly, his hands fell away from my hair and his eyes became remote.

I followed his gaze and instantly realized what had upset him: The dress. I'd forgotten about Gaila's dress; the same dress that had been ripped from the cut-out between my breasts straight through the hem by a very excited Vulcan.

"I apologize," he said, his voice still slightly rough. "I did not mean to damage your garment."

His control and composure were returning and, with them, Standard.

"_T'_Gaila _eh wat rai zakar_," I said – _the damage is not important_ – refusing to relinquish the Vulcan or the connection that I felt with him when we communicated in his language.

Besides, the damage _wasn't _important. In fact, Gaila would be ecstatic that her dress was destroyed during sex. She'd probably write a song about it. After I bought her a new one.

He blinked and straightened in the chair. He'd have me off his lap in seconds if I didn't stop him.

I bit back a sigh. I could handle a highly aroused, half-crazed Vulcan but not a recalcitrant one.

I pressed my shaking hand over his heart; it was still pounding - faster than anything I'd ever felt. **"**_Afer-tor du sanosh_**. **_Tan-tor du nash-veh lo'uk sanosh_. _Istau tor du rai_?"

"I am aware that we both found our activities pleasurable." His eyes shifted away to the corner of the room.

"_Istau tor du rai_?" I repeated, fighting back the urge to grab his face and force him to look at me.

"Nyota...."

"Spock, _tor du_?" I demanded, praying he would say no.

"No, I do not wish them undone," he said quietly, his eyes finally sliding back to mine.

I smiled. "_Rom._ _Kroikah."_

"I will stop," he said. "I apologize."

"_Dungi-vashau du po'min_," I pointed out.

"I am destroying the after glow?" he questioned. "I do not understand. What is an after glow?"

Vulcans.

"_Se qual_ _Terrasu zhit tiz-tor ish-wak-krus po'guv-tvi-rivak tik vath," _I said, explaining the concept to him. I finally understood how Gaila must've felt when she had to tell me about green penises.

His fingers returned to my hair. "I will cease complicating the after glow," he said.

"_Rom_."

Good, he was finally catching on.

"_Nahp nash-veh dom_ _m__ahr-tor na't'ko-veh_ _uzh _Gaila_. Mahr-tor na'nash-veh_," I said, thinking out loud. If had to buy a new dress for Gaila, I might as well buy one for myself.

He regarded me for a long moment, as if weighing out his response. When he spoke, it was in Vulcan. "_Yon-kur_."

_In red._


	6. 0730 Hours, Monday

Well here we are again, folks – the end of this little adventure. I want to thank miss steph for Betaing while in the midst of a move; RachelKarenGeller for the suggestion about using more of the Vulcan language; everyone, especially T'Leba and Kristen Elizabeth, who encouraged me to pay closer attention to what I was writing; and everyone who took the time to read (and review) this story.

I have fallen in love with Nyota, Gaila and Kelly Flenderson, Psy.D. (I was already in love with Spock) and plan on returning to this insane corner of the Trekverse in the future – but, for now, I really need a break. At least that's what my loved ones tell me.

**Disclaimers and Warnings in Part One.**

~**Part Six of Six :**_ 0730 Hours, Monday_~

_The horse and I are cantering again, not in Africa, but over a vast desert of ochre, sepia and crimson. The horse and I pass a building that is hanging, like a stalactite, from the bottom of a cliff; then others that thrust up from the sand like stalagmites – they look as if they were _grown_, not constructed. It is a completely alien landscape that feels utterly familiar. _

_A rock lets loose and bounces away from us. I realize that we are not alone._

_I turn to see my companion, a pretty woman with_ _caramel skin, black hair, chocolate brown eyes and a lush, female body; she's astride a glaringly white horse with light freckles and a sandy brown mane and tail. _

_I recognize her from the holos had Gaila shown me._

"_Hello Dr. Flenderson."_

"_Hey, Nyota."_

"_Why are you on Vulcan with me?"_

"_Vulcan, huh?" She looks around, her hair bouncing and swishing in springy curls, "_So_ not a cute planet."_

_I laugh. "No, it is definitely not cute."_

"_But that Vulcan of yours is. Cute, I mean. You did good, girl. He was a tough one." She reins in her horse and I follow suit. "My guy was tough, too – but worth it. Is yours worth everything you went through?"_

"_Definitely."_

_She leans over and places her hand on mine; it is very cool. She smells like nutmeg. "'For what it's worth it was worth all the while.' Green Day. They were total geniuses."_

"_Okay," I say, because I am not sure what she is talking about._

_Her head swivels as she takes in the desert and the sky and the buildings. "He really grew up here?"_

"_Yes," I say._

"_This is a place that doesn't give up things easily." She turns back to me. "I'm guessing the people don't either."_

"_No, they don't."_

"_You know that you've got him and got him good, right? You knocked that boy's socks clean off his body._

"_That is," she looked around, "Do Vulcans wear socks? I mean it _is_ kinda hot here." She shakes her head and her earrings, roses made of a clear stone, catch the light and refract it. "Well, whatever, you knocked him out of whatever he wears on his feet."_

"_He wears socks," I say._

_She grins, "Okay then. So you did that and now you just need to be careful."_

"_Careful of what?"_

"_Talking yourself out of the relationship, of course."_

"_I wouldn't do that," I protest._

"_Oh you'll try," she counters. "There's nothing like a little success to make a girl question herself." _

_She taps her lips for a moment. "You should really read my book _Don't Mess It Up, Girl! _because you don't need to go messing this up and you totally will if you keep freaking out every ten seconds…."_

"_I don't freak out every ten seconds."_

"_Fine. You freak out every _thirty_ seconds." She stares me down, daring me to disagree._

_I sigh in defeat. She's not entirely wrong._

"_I'm happy you're willing to admit it," she says. "You're like this totally brilliant and confident woman, but when it comes to this man you're just as scared and insecure as anyone else._

"_You really should read the book. I know reading stuff can blow, but my books are different. The Steps worked pretty well, didn't they?"_

"_Yes," I say cautiously._

"_Exactly! They never fail – that's why you gotta keep using them, too."_

"_I'm finished with The Steps."_

"_No one finishes The Steps, they just keep reusing them."_

Nyota.

"_They couldn't have made this planet more like Scottsdale?" she is asking. "Scottsdale totally rocks. They have grass in the desert. They have fountains and swimming pools. They have _golf courses_."_

Nyota.

_I look for whoever it is that's calling my name._

"_Arizona is like ninety percent desert and they were able to make Scottsdale green," she continues. _

Nyota.

_I can feel a tugging. _

_She has stopped talking; I turn towards her._

_She is staring at me, her head tipped to the side. "Could you do me a favor?"_

"_Of course," I respond._

"_Say hi to Gaila for me; that girl is fabulous. I wish that she and I could've been friends. We would've totally ruled the world."_

_I laugh. "Yes, I think the two of you really could have."_

Nyota.

_My name is calling me away from here._

"_Dr. Flenderson," I say. _

_She nods at me, her eyes sparkling, her earrings flashing._

"_Thank you."_

_She smiles and it beautiful and warm and I wish I had known her. "You're welcome, Nyota."_

"Nyota."

The nape of my neck was sore and my face was pressed into the crook of his neck, and when I moved my head, trying to reorient myself from dreamscape to real life, I could feel moisture. I'd drooled on him.

"Sorry," I said, trying to wipe away the liquid.

"Please stop."

"No, it's disgusting. I'm sorry."

He shifted and grabbed my hands, stilling their movement. "Nyota, please stop touching me."

Something about how he said those five words turned my blood to ice; he didn't say it in the deep, rumbly voice that had presaged our early, pleasurable activities. No, his voice was brisk; The Commander had returned. My stomach clenched, my muscles tensed, my brain was filled with a rushing noise.

_I knew it, I knew it, and I _knew_ it. Dream Doctor Flenderson you were wrong – I don't got him. I don't got him at all._

"Nyota, why is your breathing elevated and your body tense?"

"No reason," I mumbled.

"There is a reason. Humans do not have reactions like this without provocation. What is distressing you?"

I pulled away from him and sat up. I fought the urge to pull the sheet up over my naked body protectively. "You wanted me to stop touching you."

He sat up, too. He was beautiful and perfect and I wanted him for a very long time – forever, maybe – I just wasn't sure he wanted the same thing.

"It was distracting and I wish to speak to you without distraction."

I did pull the sheet up this time. "Okay. Shoot."

His eyes dipped to my cotton shield, then back to my face. "Nyota, your reactions are most illogical."

"I'm Human," I pointed out. "We have illogical moments. It's part of our charm." I folded my arms and stared at him.

His eyebrows knitted together for a moment. "I do not understand why you are so combative."

_I should've bought _Don't Mess It Up, Girl! _a week ago._ _Why didn't I buy it? Why?_

I took a deep and calming breath. "I apologize. Please proceed."

His eyes flickered across my face, then he said, "I awoke you so we could discuss our return to the Academy."

_I am breathing. I am calm. I am listening before reacting. I am buying that book the second I'm back home. _

"Yes, our return to the Academy," I said, my voice even, almost a monotone. "We should discuss that."

"Regulations bar relationships between instructors and their students…."

I shifted my eyes from his face to the wall. I couldn't look at him while he said the words.

_I wish I'd let Gaila teach me_ Vulcans are Stupid and You Don't Need One – _if I could sing it to myself I might not have to hear him, either. _

"Nyota, please look at me."

I sighed in defeat and shifted my eyes back to his. He was leaning slightly towards me. "You are agitated."

"I'm not agitated," I said, and it was true. I was terrified and just this side of hysterical. I was _not_ agitated.

_And I was not freaking out._

_Much._

"While I do not understand Human emotional reactions, I have learned to recognize them."

"Spock, I don't want to debate this. Please just tell me why you woke me up at – computer, time?"

"0746 Hours," Spock and the computer said in unison.

It was still creepy.

"When we don't leave for three hours because it doesn't seem like you wanted me to wake up so we could, erm, you know." I waved my hand around the bed in a manner that I hoped was self-explanatory.

"That is accurate."

"And you wanted to talk about our return to the Academy and regulations."

He nodded slowly, his eyes analytical. He was quiet for a long time, so long that I began to grow impatient. I shifted and he blinked, "Humans enjoy making assumptions, do they not?"

"We don't _enjoy_ it," I said.

"And yet they do it with great frequency."

"Did I make an assumption?" I asked.

"Did you conclude that I was going to sever our association upon our return to the Academy?"

I jutted my chin out. "Maybe."

"Then, yes, you made an assumption, Nyota."

My fingers and toes started to tingle as blood returned to them. I stared at him.

"Shall I continue?"

I nodded.

"Regulations bar relationships between instructors and their students…."

"You already said that."

He took a deep breath and his shoulder muscles tensed slightly; his pectoral muscles tensed, too. I watched them raptly.

"Nyota, I wish to finish my statement."

I abandoned ogling his chest – _his very, very nice chest_ – and focused on his face.

I felt better. Good. Hopeful.

_But I'm still buying the book and Gaila and I are going to study it like we study Advanced Survival Strategies._

"Regulations bar relationships between instructors and their students; however, I am no longer your instructor. In the unlikely eventuality that you are assigned to a class that I am teaching, I will expect that you will request a transfer. I, of course, will approve such a request.

"In addition, our schedules are demanding and limit the time in which to pursue non-academic interests. I propose that we set aside time each week for interaction.

"That is my position on this matter and I am interested in hearing your thoughts."

He stopped talking and looked at me. His speech - which he had very obviously memorized, most likely while I was drooling all over his shoulder in my sleep - was done.

I began to translate the Spock Speak.

_He is not ending this relationship – he's telling me he wants it to continue._

"So you want to make sure that I'm not your student again."

"That is correct."

_And he wants us to have time to interact. Alone. And naked. At least part of the time._

"And you want to date me," I grinned.

"Date is a Human label. I wish to spend time with you in a social capacity."

"Which is dating."

"If you wish to label it as such I will not stop you."

_He wants to _date_ me._

"Well, I do wish to label it as such." I reached out and took his hand in mine, kissing the back of it gently.

_I may write a Spock to Human dictionary._

"I'm sorry that I jumped to conclusions," I said several seconds later.

His eyes softened, "I told you that I return your affection. I have never said such a thing to anyone, Nyota. Vulcans do not enter into…" he paused as if searching for the right word, "associations…."

"Relationships," I corrected gently.

_Yep. Definitely writing a dictionary and dedicating it to Doctor Flenderson and Gaila._

"…Such as ours injudiciously. I would not have allowed the events of the last twenty point six hours if I had intended to sever our," he took a deep breath, "relationship upon our return to San Francisco."

"You are a very noble Vulcan," I said, leaning forward and kissing him.

"Vulcans are noble as a rule," he replied.

"And honest," I said appraisingly. "Which is why you're going to tell me why you dismissed the idea that I was attracted to you in favor of the theory that I was nuts."

It was something I hadn't asked him yet – I was too afraid of what his answer was going to be. I wasn't afraid anymore.

_Am I doing well Doctor Flenderson?_

He lowered his eyes to our hands. "It did not seem likely that you had developed an attraction for me despite our comparable intellects, analogous interests and the mutual respect and rapport that developed between us; you are an emotional, passionate Human woman with many friends and interests." He stopped talking, his ears a little green.

_He didn't think I was interested because he's not _like_ me. Maybe I should buy _him_ a Flenderson book._

"I think you're pretty wonderful," I said. "I always have. I like that we're different. It makes things interesting." I raised my eyebrows, "_Fascinating_, even."

He raised an eyebrow which, of course, made me melt.

"How can you not know the power of the raised eyebrow?" I demanded.

"Please enlighten me, Cadet."

"Nuh uh," I said leaning towards him. "It's bad enough that you know there's power to it. If I tell you what it does to women – all women – all sane and intelligent women - you'd be impossible."

"Vulcans are never impossible."

I snorted and brushed my lips gently across his. "Can we be done talking now?" I asked.

"If you so desire."

"I do desire it," I said, pulling him down to the bed with me. "I really do.

I pulled his head towards me, finding his mouth. I poured all of my love, relief and joy into the kiss.

When I finally released him, he looked a little stunned. "That was most….unexpected."

_Which, of course, meant that I had just driven him crazy with the intensity of my ardor._

_And that he wanted me to do it again._

I giggled and kissed him again, letting my fingers roam across his body at will. They skated along his arms, over his chest, down to his butt. He deepened the kiss, pressing me back into the mattress. I slid my tongue into his mouth, jockeying with his for control – sucking on the small muscle, lapping at his teeth, the flesh of his mouth.

He tasted like nutmeg.

He left my mouth and began to kiss my neck, then he slid his head down towards my breasts.

_Yes, yes, yes, yes._

His mouth, hot and wet, found my nipple and I arched up at him; he repeated his actions on the nipple's twin. He began to lick patterns across my breasts, making sure that the skin was well cared for. His fingers brushed across my stomach and I was ready, so ready, _completely_ ready for him. My fingers migrated to the front of his body.

He was ready, too.

He murmured into my skin as my fingers brushed across his rigid flesh, but he didn't take the hint.

_I have to tell him how I feel, how I really feel._

I moved my hips, brushing the proof of my arousal against the proof of his. His head left my breast.

"Amazing," he said.

"My sentiments exactly." I thrust up against him again, making very certain that he couldn't misinterpret my actions. "Now!" I added, just in case.

His eyes widened and he entered me, stretching me in a wholly marvelous manner and began the movements that I had become addicted to instantly.

My hands were in his hair. He looked at me with slightly unfocused eyes.

"I love you," I told him; the words as easy, as _right_, as anything I had ever said.

"Nyota," his voice was low, soft. He stilled his movements and released his arms. He laced his fingers through mine, kissed me gently and then, and only then, when our bodies were touching from head to toe, did he start to move again. His fingers tightened in mine as only our hips, our lips created the friction and motion that we both craved, both needed, both _wanted_.

The orgasm came slowly, but hit with tidal force. I cried out into his mouth and he stilled for me, letting me ride the waves without more stimulation. When I was done and gasping for breath, he began to move gently, almost apologetically.

I tightened my hands on his and began to chant into his mouth.

"_Sadalau, _Spock_, ek'man'es du."_

_Let go, you are safe._

"_La'nash-veh."_

_I am here._

"_T'du."_

_I am yours._

And, with that, he came in an explosive gasp and shudder. His body flushed even hotter – almost too hot to touch. I held him tightly as he rode the sensations.

His skin gradually cooled and the shudders subsided; his eyes focused on my face. I traced his ears and smiled at him.

His fingers brushed across my face and down my neck.

I sighed happily and he leaned his forehead against mine.

_I'm still reading that book._

_Just in case._

**~~The story continues in _Don't Mess It Up, Girl!_~~**


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